


This is Not How You Die

by havetardiswilltimetravel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt John Watson, Hurt!John, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Inspired by Fanart, John Watson Whump, John Whump, NO DEATH, POV Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:02:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havetardiswilltimetravel/pseuds/havetardiswilltimetravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is shot on a case. Cue Sherlock trying to hold it together and get them through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Not How You Die

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this piece of fanart](http://havetardiswilltimetravel.tumblr.com/post/122017013389/) by thetwelfthpanda.

John was limp in his arms, the criminal long gone, leaving nothing but a bullet and at least a liter of blood on the pavement. Sherlock's fingers fumbled on John's throat in their rush, shaking with nerves and fear, and then with a lightheaded relief that stole his breath away as he found a pulse. It was thready and weak, almost threatening to give out, but it was there. It was there.

"John..." his voice barely rasped out, and he swallowed the lump in his throat, clenching his other fist in John's torn jumper even as he pressed forward, applying the pressure he knew was needed to stem the bleeding. The rational part of his brain told him that he should be using both hands, that he should lower John to the ground and apply as much pressure to the gunshot wound as he could, meaning **_both hands_** , but the panic that clouded his vision wouldn't let him take his fingers from John's pulse point, from the only thing that told him his friend was still alive.

"Please John..." the deep baritone faltered for a moment, hoping for a response, needing a response. "Wake up...you're scaring me." He got no answer, but for the shallow breathing he could feel on his cheek.

He swallowed once more, eyes clenched shut until the spots behind his eyelids matched the lights on top of the ambulance that would surely get here any moment. Any moment now, it would get there, because this was not how John Watson died. He refused.

"You..." He took a breath, and it shook all the way in and all the way out. "You are...the most stubborn man I have ever come into contact with, and I include Mycroft in that assessment." His brow furrowed, and he looked away at the bricks coated with grime and sunlight-starved ivy. "And you are a fighter. God knows, you fight with me enough..." He looked back, intense eyes willing John to hear him. "This is not how you die. You don't give up. On anything. So you will not give up now." His deep baritone cracked on the last word, and he searched John's face. "And you're a doctor so you know that this is...bad...but it's nothing you can't handle. Think, just think of all of the things you'll make me do which you're recovering. I'll have to do every bit of it, even clean up my experiments. And cook. You don't know I can cook, but I can." Sherlock swallowed, keeping heavy pressure on the wound. "I know you're there so just listen..."

Sirens filtered into the quiet stale air, growing louder in the distance, and John roused just slightly at the sound. Sherlock pressed with all his might on the wound, causing a groan to break on John's lips.

"This is not how you die."

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued.


End file.
